The Fancy Sleigh

By Bakerj

“Joseph, if this weren’t the dumbest idea you’ve ever had, I don’t know what was.”

“Hey!  You agreed with me.”

With his teeth clenched, Hoss hunkered further into his scarf.  That was true.  But with his butt freezing to his saddle, second thoughts were well and truly setting in.  Since yesterday, toasting his toes in front of the warm fire blazing at home was all he could think about, and the longing for a warm bed ached his very bones.  At least the snow that had been falling since dawn had stopped. But he was done with this wild goose chase.

“Yeah.  I know.  But c’mon, we ain’t seen so much of a whisker of that cat.”

Joe pulled Cochise up and twisted in his saddle.  The look on his face raised Hoss’s hopes.   

“We’re almost at Mule Valley.  Let’s cut back from there.  We’d be home before dark.”

A slap rang off Hoss’s thigh.  “Hot diggity!  Sounds good to me.”

Joe grinned when his brother urged Chubb into a trot and passed him.  For a man who loved nature, Hoss sure hated the cold … and the heat … and bugs.  Joe’d had enough of looking for that elusive darn cat, too.  Since sunup, he’d been easing them toward the valley, intending all along to return home.  But did he let on?  Heck, no!  Why not have some fun first?  And the look all morning on Big Brother’s face at the idea they were spending another night out here in the cold had been fun.  Hoss looked around at his chuckle.

“What?”

“Nothing, Brother.  Just wondering about that cat.”

“That dadburned cat.  You ask me, Pete imagined it.”

Joe pulled a face but didn’t reply.  Two days spent chasing a phantom wasn’t something he’d liked to consider. 

Moving forward, the only sound that accompanied their journey was the rattle of tack and the breathing of their horses as their hooves broke through snow untouched by man or beast.  A stillness that seemed to freeze the air hung around them, giving the country a fairytale feel.  The sky was so blue and clear it hurt to look at it.  Moving through the trees provided shade, but the snow lay deeper here, and they took care to avoid the worst spots. 

Joe grinned.  Hoss sat straighter in his saddle every mile they drew closer to home.  Single-minded at times, the thought of that cozy fire and hot meal waiting for him would be like honey to a bear.  The cold held no more appeal to him than Big Brother, but if he had to be here, Hoss was the guy to be with.  They were a team and knew what the other was thinking by instinct.  Sure, Candy proved a good addition and had become more than just an employee.  He was a solid man to have by your side in any situation.  But if Joe had the choice, it would always be Hoss.
***

Rounding the rocks into the valley, Hoss pulled up short.  Scooting Cochise around, Joe pulled up alongside Chubb.  His mouth dropped open.  In front of them was the fanciest sleigh he’d ever seen.  With no sign of the driver or team, they dismounted to take a better look. 

Joe’s gloved fingers ran over the smooth wood burnished to a deep cherry that gleamed so bright he could see his face in it.  Intricate patterns painted in gold adorned the panels.  Breathing in the earthy smell of the plush leather seats, Joe fingered the thick fur trim, which added to their magnificence. 

“Who the heck owns this?” he asked.

“Ain’t it obvious?”

Eyes as big as saucers, Hoss looked full of barely contained excitement. 

Puzzled, Joe replied, “No.”

“Look at them sacks back there.  Who rides around in a sleigh this time of year carrying a pile of sacks?”

Joe’s gaze fixed on the sacks peeping from behind the seats.  Understanding dawned.  “You don’t mean?”

Hoss’s nods were so vigorous his hat almost fell off.  “Yep.  We’ve done gone and found Saint Nicholas’s sleigh.”

Pressing his lips together hard to control the quiver, Joe managed to say, “It’s not Christmas Eve for a week.”

“Maybe it’s a practice run?”

For a long moment Joe just stood and stared at Hoss standing there like a giddy three-year-old whose Christmases had all come at once.  Then the laugh let rip.  He couldn’t have done anything to stop it, but Joe didn’t try. 

Hoss glared.  “You laugh it up all you want.  But you’ll see.”  Still giggling, Joe listened as his brother pointed out the sleigh’s glories.  “Have you ever seen one this fancy?  No one ‘round here has a sleigh like this.”

“Okay.  I admit it’s impressive.  But if it belongs to Saint Nick, where is he?”

“He’s probably taking care of the reindeer.”

“Reindeer?  Oh, come on.  You don’t really—”

“Well!  Well!  Well!  Who do we have here?  Have my prayers been answered?”

Joe’s mouth dropped even further this time when they turned to see who had spoken.  He was one impressive figure. 

Just shy of Hoss’s height, the man wore a heavy wool coat, the deep green of pine needles, trimmed with gold piping and fur.  His matching hat had the brim turned up to reveal more fur.  The maroon belt around his waist must’ve been four inches wide, and he smiled through the whitest, bushiest beard Joe had ever seen with eyebrows to match.  Joe blinked and told himself he wasn’t looking at Saint Nicholas.

Becoming aware of Hoss’s elbow jabbing him, Joe snapped, “Quit it.”

“Perhaps you fellas can help me?”

“We can sure try,” Hoss replied before hissing into his ear, “What’d I tell you!”

Joe rolled his eyes.  “You’re a long way from anywhere.”

“Indeed I am.  It’s hard to know who is what and where out here.  But I believe I’m still on the Ponderosa.  Correct?”

“Yessir.”

“Well.  At least I’m not lost, just foolish enough to get a runner caught between these rocks.” 

Hoss knelt and ran an experienced eye over the problem.  “Yeah.  It’s jammed in there tight, but you’re in luck.  It don’t look broke.  I reckon we can get that out.”  Looking back at the traveler, Hoss asked, “Where’s your team?  Y’know your … horses?”

Joe bit back a groan at the way Hoss asked the question.  Horses were the last thing Big Brother meant.  The gentleman laughed.  Deep and rich, the sound seemed to reach inside Joe’s soul and lift his spirits.  He couldn’t help but grin.

“I unhitched the harness and took them around into the lee of the hills.  It’s out of the wind, and there’s even some grass.”

“Makes sense,” Joe told him, giving Hoss a look meant to tell his brother to settle down.  “I’ll find a couple of branches for levers.”

With the help of these and sheer brute force, they managed to ease the runner free of the rocks and push the sleigh clear.

After the display of strength he’d given, Hoss clutched his knees and heaved in deep breaths.  Joe slapped him on the back.  “Good work, brother.”

“My thanks, good friends.  You have been wonderful helpers today.  I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d been stuck here.  That would’ve meant disaster.”

“Oh, yeah,” Hoss gasped.  “Why’s that?”

Hooking gloved thumbs into his belt, the man winked.  “Important places to be, my friend.  I can’t be delayed.”

Joe and Hoss took the hand held out to them and joined in with the man’s irresistible laughter.

“D’you need help hitching your team?”

Joe sighed.  Hoss sure wasn’t giving up.

“You’ve done more than enough.”

Trying not to laugh at the disappointment on Hoss’s face, Joe returned to their horses as the man trudged off through the snow.  His knee-high, glossy brown boots leaving large footprints behind him. 

Hoss picked up Chubb’s rein and called, “Hey, Mister.  We didn’t get your name.”

The traveler turned and smiled.  “It’s Sinterklaas.”

With a wave, he disappeared around some rocks and out of sight.

“Did he say, Sinter Klaas?”

“I think so.”

“Strange name, ain’t it?  What d’you think?  Sounds Norwegian.  Ain’t that near where Saint Nicholas comes from?”

Joe glared over the top of his saddle.  “You know there ain’t no such thing.”

“Well, you tell me who else that could’ve been.”

“He told you his name.” 

Big Brother said no more, and Joe let the subject drop.  They rode through the trees for a few minutes when Hoss pulled Chubb to a halt. 

“Let’s go back.”

“Huh?”

“He’ll have had time to fetch his team.  Let’s go see.”

“Will you give it up?”

“C’mon, Little Brother.  Ain’t you just a little bit curious?”  Joe looked at Hoss’s eager face.  He couldn’t help it.  The twinkle in those blue eyes was infectious.  When the smile spread on his face, Hoss slapped his shoulder.  “Hot diggity!  I knew it.”

Powder rose around them as they cantered back through the trees.  Joe flicked out his rein, gave a whoop, and Hoss laughed.  They burst out into the clearing and their laughter died.  The sleigh had gone.  There was no sign of anyone.

Joe lifted in his saddle to look around.  “He sure moved fast.”

“Look at this.”

Joe cast a cursory glance at the ground where Hoss was pointing.  “Deer tracks?  So what?  Deer pass through here all the time.”

“Maybe so.  But where’s the horse tracks?”

Joe frowned.  Hoss was right.  The only horse tracks were their mounts.  A sense of unease crept through him.

“The snow’s pretty churned up.  They’ve been covered, is all.”

Hoss’s face glowed with excitement.  “There’d be some signs.  I’m telling you.  Him and his team of reindeer flew away!”

Joe laughed, but it was hard work.  Who had they just met?  Whoever it was, he wasn’t about to let Hoss see he was getting to him.

“Come on, let’s get home before you start seeing fairies.”

Hoss turned Chubb to follow and hid a smile.  Joseph never missed an opportunity to play tricks on him.  When he’d suggested heading home the night before, Joe had laid it on thick how they should keep looking for that cat.  When Little Brother mentioned the pass, he’d realized what Joe was up to.  Well, two could play at that game.

When he’d seen that highfalutin sleigh, the idea had hit him.  He’d expected a few minutes of fun, but his luck was in when Mr. Klaas appeared looking as fine as a double eagle and every bit how you’d expect Saint Nicholas to look.  Joe might play at brushing the idea off, but Hoss knew he’d shaken him, and he intended to make the most of it.

Posing one question after another, Joe started to join in.  Hoss had him hooked.

“That doesn’t explain what Saint Nick was doing here a week before Christmas.”

“You heard him.  He was checking out the area, making sure he knew where everyone lived.  Can’t be easy in the territories.  Keeping track of people and finding the kiddies that need a gift.”

“Yeah.  Someone always needs a helping hand this time of year.” 

Pa had that same spirit.  Their father had been heavily involved in collecting money to buy gifts for the orphanage.  A satisfying pile of packages sat in the church, ready to be delivered on Christmas Eve by another Saint Nick.  Only this one would be six foot four, three hundred pounds with baby blue eyes. 

“Saint Nick sure must be real busy.  What do you think Pa will say when we tell him?”

“Are you crazy?  We ain’t telling Pa.  I don’t wanna risk him canceling the Christmas party ‘cause he’s worried whatever we have is catching.”

“C’mon.  We gotta tell him.”

Pulling Cochise to a halt, Joe swiveled to face Hoss.  “We’re not telling nobody we saw Saint Nicholas.  Got it?”

Hoss couldn’t keep it up any longer.  The laugh rumbled up his belly and roared out.  Never slow to catch on, his brother swung a punch at his shoulder, making him laugh harder.

“All right, you got me.” 

Hoss reached over and slapped Joe on the back.  “You asked for it.”

Joe grinned, and they moved off again.  “How about that guy, though?  You ever see anything like him?” 

Hoss chuckled.  Even at twenty-five, Joe’s voice still hitched an octave when excited.  

“He sure was something, and that sleigh.”

“Where does a fella get a rig like that?

“Sure was the prettiest I ever saw.”

In good spirits, they continued to discuss the mysterious stranger until they neared the ranch house, when their thoughts switched to home comforts and the meal that awaited them.
***

Joe caught the shadow of relief in Pa’s eyes that was there every time they got home safe.  Getting up, he came to greet them.

“Any luck?”

“Not a sign.”

“Oh, well.  If it’s moved out of the area, that’s good to know.”

“Cold?”

Joe cut a look at Candy, who was looking snug and smug in the blue chair with a cup of coffee in his hands.

“Freezing,” Hoss replied.

“You fellas missed some excitement here.”

“Oh?”  Only half listening, Joe let the warmth from the fire thaw his numb fingers.  He rubbed them together as they began to tingle and smart.

“Yeah.  A fella robbed the Wells Fargo Station this morning.  Stole all the mailbags full of the parcels and money for Christmas.”

“That’s plumb terrible,” Hoss replied.

“Not the worst of it.  He hit the church and took the sacks of gifts for the orphans.”

Joe turned to his father.  “He can’t have got far.  Not with the snow.  Did they catch him?”

Ben pulled on his ear.  “That’s the thing.  He was driving a sleigh and headed into the hills.  With the snow falling, Roy had no chance to follow.”

“Yeah.  The thief worked for James O’Brian.  Name of Vester Class.  A real friendly, likable guy, according to O’Brien.  He’d no idea he’d been planning the robbery.” 

Wide-eyed, Hoss mouthed the name back to him.  Joe swallowed. 

“O’Brian had been bragging for weeks about that sleigh.  Made by Portland in New York, he had it shipped all the way here.  The finest in the territory.  Ole’ Lester stole it right out of the stables.”

A sick lump of dismay settled in Joe’s stomach.  What had they done?  He met his brother’s eyes.  

Racing for the credenza, they had Pa following them in confusion.

“Where’re you going?”

“There’s something we forgot to do.”

“But … dinner—”

“Sorry, Pa, but this can’t wait.  We should be back tomorrow, but may take longer.”

After grabbing some supplies from the kitchen, they saddled fresh mounts and headed back where they’d come.

“Dadburnit, Joe!  I can’t believe we helped that snake.  I might’ve figured out something was going on iffin I’d not been darned set on playing that joke on you.”

“You and me both, Brother.  But we’ve got the advantage of knowing where he was.  We’ll find him.”

The look in his eyes told Joe the same determination to catch the Christmas thief coursed through Hoss.  No way were they going to be responsible for letting the man who stole everyone’s Christmas mail and the orphan’s gifts get away.

As they drew nearer to the valley, Joe turned to Hoss.  “What d’you think?”

“He’d have run for the pass over to California, I reckon.”

In mutual agreement, they turned their mounts toward Bighorn Ridge.  Cutting over that would bring them out below the pass and shave miles off the journey.
***

Dusk was beginning to settle as the early winter night sped in upon them.  The sub-zero wind snapped at their faces, trying to force its way into the smallest gap in their clothes to chill their flesh further.

Joe lifted in his saddle and searched the terrain before them.  The big roan beside him tossed his head, betraying the strained nerves of his rider. 

“There!”  Joe’s arm shot out.  He pointed to the shadow flitting from tree to tree.  “He’s making for the pass.”

“C’mon!  Let’s cut him off.”

Crossing snow at a gallop wasn’t a smart idea, but it was their only option to catch this guy.  And Hoss and Joe were hell-bent on doing that.

Through the trees, Joe caught flashes of a sleek sleigh.  Its curved high gloss front gleamed in the last of the winter sun. 

“It’s him!”

The driver whipped his team into a gallop when they broke into the open.  Gunshots followed, and swerving their horses, they returned the fire.  The sacks piled in the back bounced, some teetering close to falling.  Shots cracked through the air, but they had two guns, whereas the robber had only one.  No sooner than he’d emptied his pistol, they pounced.  Hoss brought the team to a halt while Joe covered the driver. 

Joe’s mouth gaped again.  The young, clean-shaven man looking back at him bore no resemblance to the white-haired older gentleman they’d helped earlier.  Turning to look at his brother, he saw the same dumbfounded expression. 

The stranger held up his hands and smiled.  “Hi, fellas.  I’m sorry for shooting at you.  But I thought you were trying to hold me up.  Something wrong?”

“You could say that.  Borrow some mail, Vester?”

A scowl descended on the man’s face, and he spat.  “I thought I’d be free and clear in this rig.  How’d you find me?”

“Does it matter?”

Hoss marched to the sleigh and grabbed the thief by the collar.  “What kind of man are you anyways?  Stealing gifts from orphans.”

He spat again.  “So what?  Those brats won’t miss what they’ve never had.”

When his brother’s face darkened, Joe called, “Tie him up.  Then we’ll head back.”

Virginia City never slept, and people tumbled onto the boardwalk to greet them when they rode in.  After handing their catch over to Roy and the sleigh to O’Brian, they fended off the handshakes, back slaps, and offers for a free drink to slip free, head for the livery, and then the hotel. 

It was good to know the kids would get their gifts and folks their mail, but the day’s events had left them both rattled.  In the morning, they’d eat everything on the breakfast menu, but right then, they only wanted a warm bed. 

“Sorry, fellas,” Hank apologized when he handed them the key.  “I’ve only one room left with one bed.”

“Good enough,” Hoss told him.

Climbing in next to Joe, Hoss said, “I woulda bet money that the thief was the fella we’d helped.”

Joe stopped himself from rolling into his brother.  Settling down again, he grumbled, “How many men are there riding around on fancy sleighs anyway?”

“Yeah, and … well … if he weren’t the thief, who was he?”

Joe’s fingers ran down his face, scraping over the stubble.  He sighed.  “I’m beat.  Let’s get some sleep.”

“Sure.  Can’t help wondering, though.”

Joe looked at Hoss’s profile.  It had been quite a day.  Thinking they’d helped that crook escape had been bad enough, but catching him had only left that bigger question.  He gave Hoss a light punch on the shoulder.  “Me too, Brother.  Me too.”
***

Joe never missed his brother’s annual stint playing Saint Nicholas.  Big Brother loved helping people, and this was his favorite thing to do.  Hoss gave it everything he had, making sure all the kids had a great time, and Joe got a kick out of watching him.  Thanks to the robbery, this year seemed extra special.

Having shed his costume, Hoss reappeared, and Joe slapped him on the back.

“Great job.”

Hoss winked, but before he could reply, Sister Lidwina, who ran the orphanage, approached.

“I wanted to thank you both.  What you did, catching that thief, was wonderful.  We are so grateful.  You are our real-life Sinterklaas.”

Hoss’s eyes popped wide, and Joe asked, “What did you call us, Sister?”

The little lady laughed.  “That is the name for Saint Nicholas in my country.  In the Netherlands, he is Sinterklaas, the patron saint of children.”  Joe tried to concentrate on what the sister was saying and ignore Hoss’s slow mouthing of the name to him over and over.  “He looks after all the children and fills their shoes with sweets on Christmas Eve.  But you are the children’s heroes this Christmas.”

Joe tipped his hat and smiled.  “Thanks, Sister.  But we did what anyone would do.”

No sooner had the nun left, Joe was hooked under the arm and dragged to a quiet corner.

“Did you hear that?  Sinterklaas.  Dadburnit.  I knew I hadn’t misheard him.  What d’you think of that?”

Shaking his head, Joe could think of nothing to say.  He had no idea who they’d met that day, and this was one thread he didn’t want to pull on.  “Forget it.  Let’s find Pa and grab a beer.”
***

Joe rolled over, took a deep breath, and smiled.  Every Christmas morning since he could remember, the smell of cinnamon had warmed the air.  Hop Sing’s special Christmas pancakes were all it took to galvanize him out of bed.  He grabbed his boots, but when bare toes touched something cold and hard, his foot withdrew like it’d been scalded.  The package inside dropped onto his palm.  The little blue silk bag had been tied with a ribbon, formed into the perfect bow.  Attached to it was a card, edged and inscribed in gold script.  The note read, ‘To Joe, with thanks to my special helper.  Merry Christmas.  S.’  He opened it to find a small pile of sweets.

Joe threw his boot to the ground.  Only Hoss could’ve done this.  They’d not told a soul about the white-haired man with the impressive sleigh.  Clutching the little sack of treats, Joe stormed down the hall and burst into his brother’s room to find him, boot in hand, staring at an identical bag. 

Joe crossed to his side.  “You got one, too?” 

They marveled at the little parcels, and the two grown men vanished, replaced by the excited, tousled-haired little boys who had woken on Christmas morning’s past to the sight of a stocking at the end of their beds.  They always came with the same message, ‘Merry Christmas from Saint Nicholas’.  The stockings hung over the fireplace now, more as a symbol than for use.  But that same thrill and wonder flowed through them again. 

“You don’t think …?” Hoss trailed off.

Joe met his gaze.  The sparkle in those blue eyes was no brighter than the one in his own.  Joe nodded, and smiles as big as Christmas spread over their faces. 

***  Merry Christmas  ***

Dec. 2023

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